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In a corner of the villa, Zhao Dezhu sat hunched over with his neck drawn in, unable to make sense of what was happening.
He had barely flown any distance when Wang Sheng swooped in, dragged him back, and tossed him into this corner like an eagle snatching a chick.
Then came Xi Lian, the Daoist master whose beauty almost seemed unreal, the legendary Mu Wanxuan, and Mu Wanxuan's junior sister.
They all gathered around him.
What exactly is going on…
People could normally only dream of so many graceful immortals surrounding them. Their bearing alone set them far above ordinary girls.
But right now, Zhao Dezhu felt like a frog about to be dissected—the kind that could not even struggle anymore.
Nearby, Fei Yu was discussing something with a figure dressed in a blood-red robe. One glance at the man made Zhao Dezhu feel as if he were staring at death itself.
"How can we confirm it, Your Imperial Majesty?"
"Just pull out his soul and take a look."
"Would that have any effect…"
"He is only a mortal. Even if he dies, I can bring him back."
Zhao Dezhu shuddered. From their conversation, he could not sense the slightest hint of "kindness....
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